


That's Not Even Close To A Daddy Kink, Thor

by atheniavenesia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheniavenesia/pseuds/atheniavenesia
Summary: It turns out that dating an alien prince of a destroyed planet who only socializes with other aliens can lead to some pretty weird ideas about Earth kinks.Who knew?





	That's Not Even Close To A Daddy Kink, Thor

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't make any sense and is a joke that was funnier when it wasn't a one and a half thousand word punchline. However, that's never stopped me.
> 
> No proofreading we make severe grammatical mistakes like men.

“Do you have a daddy kink?” Thor asks

Well.

Bruce pretends not be choking on a mouthful of orange juice. Fortunately — no, there’s really nothing fortunate about this conversation — Thor hasn’t finished talking yet.

“Because I do,” he says. If Bruce wasn’t trying to manually restart each of his neurons, he might have seen the oh-I’ve-just-offended-somebody panic in Thor’s flailing. Instead it just looked like his run of the mill I’ve-accidentally-killed-my-boyfriend-with-my-extreme-Asgardian-kinkiness. “I’m so into that. I love it. Dear.”

“Dear?” Bruce parrots because _sure_ let’s focus on that.

Thor gives a smile Bruce knows is trying for reassuring and ends up firmly in the neighborhood of agonized.

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Thor says. “Dear. Because I like to pretend you are a daddy.”

Bruce swallows his spit and places his vase of orange juice down. “Why would you call me…”

Thor pats his hand indulgently from across the table. “You don’t have to play dumb. I would be the”—he clears his throat—“mommy.”

Bruce puts his face in his hands. The best part of being full-time Hulk is that his hands are now more than sufficient to cover his face. He doesn’t have to deal with seeing Thor’s face hovering over the edge of his fingers. Instead he gets to think about the frankly terrifying world of what the hell the Asgardian fetish community was like. He takes a deep breath before he can start to think too hardly about how into it Loki probably was. Bruce uncovers his eyes when he realizes just how persistent _those_ mental images are going to be.

“So you want to pretend that we have kids?” Bruce says. His heart kicks up suddenly. “Wait, do you want kids?”

Thor grimaces. “Is this really how we want to have that discussion?”

“Point taken.”

Thor stands up. He walks around the table and there’s a certain intent in his face that Bruce has become very adept at deciphering.

“Now?” Bruce asks.

Why is he whispering?

Thor clears his throat. “Of course! I see no reason why you — I mean, I — should have to wait any longer before getting satisfaction.”

“Thor, wait, wait, wait. There’s like… stuff we need. Isn’t there?”

Thor halts. “Stuff?”

The pitch of his voice has gone up. It could be a part of the role-playing. Bruce blanches.

“Like supplies,” Bruce says. His palms are sweating. “We need, uh, to prepare.”

“Oh,” Thor says. He seems to deflate. “Are you sure?”

Bruce thinks back to 50 Shades of Gray. He shakes his head and thinks back to a good kink book. “Yeah. You can’t just jump right into a scene like that.”

Thor’s shoulders, rising steadily as he’d approached, drop suddenly.

“Thank the Norns,” he mutters. “I mean, drat. That sucks. I’m devastated.”

Before Bruce can ask exactly what the hell is going on, Thor turns on his heel and sprints out the front door. Bruce leans back in his seat and brings his ladle of cereal to his mouth. He’s got some time before Thor realizes he’s running around in a pair of briefs and comes back. He needs to think.

* * *

Bruce hasn’t technically been in the same country as Thor in two days. It’s not, like, on purpose. He just has a lot of business, and it’s really only a coincidence that none of it has taken him back to Norway.

“You can’t keep sleeping on my couch,” May says. Bruce looks up at her. She preempts him. “No, not even if you say please.”

“May, please,” Bruce says. “You have no idea how important this is.”

She crosses her arms. “It’s not that bad. So what if—”

Peter walks in.

“—he wants to call you Daddy.”

Peter walks out.

May laughs. Traitorously.

“No, no,” Bruce says. He yells in the direction of Peter’s slammed door, “nobody wants to call anybody Daddy!”

“Mister Banner, please don’t say that word again,” comes the muffled response.

May snorts.

“It’s true,” Bruce says to May defensively. “He wants to, like, play house.”

May shrugs. “So what? Don’t you live together? You’re already playing house.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it.”

“Maybe not,” she says. “But does it bother you so much that you need to flee the country?”

“I’m not fleeing! I’m just making a tactical retreat.”

“Any tactics in that big green head?”

“Shockingly enough, I’m coming up short on ways to treat Thor like a mommy!” He hears a groan from behind Peter’s door. “Sorry, Pete.”

May laughs again. Bruce decides Queens has outlived its usefulness as a base of operations.

“Fine, I’ll go back,” he says. He wags one giant finger in her direction. “But I won’t forget this slight, May Parker. You’re absolutely uninvited from Christmas in New Asgard.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, fine, okay. But you’re going to have to bring your own dessert because I’m going to eat all the pie.”

She doesn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. She just lifts her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, whatever! Mark my words, though, I’m not going to pay any attention to the hundred dollar limit and you’re going to feel really bad about how cool your gift is.”

She laughs while Bruce calls for a ride.

* * *

 

 

Bruce is standing outside of his door. He’s fine. Not worried, not at all, just excited and ready to do this kink… thing with Thor. He’s wearing his nicest shirt and tackiest tie. Thor had specifically picked it out. His hair is slicked to the side, his glasses are pushed up his nose, and his pants are pulled up uncomfortably high.

He’s ready.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls.

There’s a clatter from the kitchen. Thor is not, to put it lightly, much of a homemaker. That’s the risk you take when you date alien royalty. Still, he’d been adamant he be in the kitchen when the scene started. It was thereabouts that Bruce had realized Thor had gotten his entire knowledge of Earth gender roles from sitcoms. He was an unfortunately big fan of the Brady Bunch.

“Oh, dear,” Thor says from the kitchen. “I’m just baking a cake. Your favorite!”

Bruce inhales and smells something that is decidedly not cake. “Oh, no.”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, uh, cream puff,” Bruce says.

He puts a comically undersized briefcase down by the front door and walks to the kitchen. Thor is wearing an apron, and okay, fine, that’s adorable. There is also, however, something of a small fire happening on the stove behind him. Not as adorable.

“Thor, man, God, fire!” which is more of a list than a statement.

Thor gets the gist of it. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m flambeing it.”

“Baked Alaska is a little out of your wheelhouse, don’t you think?”

Thor waves his hand dismissively. “I’m sure it is, whatever that is. I’m making funnel cake.”

Bruce stares. “So that’s a grease fire.”

“Um.”

Bruce crosses the kitchen in two long strides. Thor stands to the side with a bemused expression while Bruce pours every ounce of salt in the kitchen over the fire.

“Sweetie,” Bruce begins.

Thor laughs. “Oh, I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

It’s okay. It’s fine. Bruce and Thor are almost completely invulnerable. There’s only a few things that can really hurt them, and none of it’s in this kitchen. Still.

“We’ll have leftovers,” Bruce says.

Thor leans against him and smiles up at him. “Of course. That’s why I married you, you know. Your big, beautiful brain. Let me just feed the baby.”

Baby? Okay, that hadn’t been as clear during the negotiation, but Bruce can roll with that. He turns and sees Stormbreaker is seated at the table.

“Is that”—Bruce licks his lips—“our baby.”

“Of course,” Thor says. “And he’s adorable.”

“Yeah.”

Bruce watches as Thor sits at the table and just sort of… presses a spoon against the haft of his ax. This is insane. He’s been driven insane. This is all a stress-induced nightmare, and he’s going to wake up in the lab with Thor trying to convince him to hang it up for the day and he’s absolutely not going to have to watch his husband pretend to feed an ax.

“Alright, the baby’s fed.” Thor says. Like an afterthought. “Dear.”

Or not.

“Thor,” Bruce says. “I can’t do this.”

Thor stands up. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s crushed the spoon in his hands. “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Bruce sags against the counter. “I’m sorry. It’s just… this is insane. I wanted to try it, but this is just — it’s too much.”

“You don’t want to do this?”

Thor sounds hopeful and wait, something isn’t right here.

“Don’t you?” Bruce asks. “I thought we were doing this because you wanted to.”

Thor shakes his head. “No!”

“Then why,” Bruce begins. Instead of finishing he gestures around the kitchen.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad, so I pretended I wanted to do it,” Thor says. “I know you’re a coward.”

“Thanks.”

Thor waves his hands in front of him. “But a good coward. Like the kind that doesn’t want to bring up their incredible sexual perversion in case their lover is made uncomfortable by it.”

“Worse, actually. That was worse than the first thing you said.”

Thor leans back. “I suppose this is what I get for listening to the Guardians.”

Bruce jolts forward. “They put you up to this?”

“It was Rabbit, mostly. He said you looked like you’d be into that sort of stuff.”

“Why would you believe anything he says? He’s, like, explicitly the least trustworthy person we know,” Bruce says. “And we know people that have tried to kill us.”

“I know that,” Thor scoffs. “That’s why I asked Quail what a ‘daddy kink’ was.”

Bruce looks at the ax sitting at the table and the scorch marks on the stove. “Okay, it sort of makes sense that this is what Quill thinks a daddy kink would be.”

Thor’s fingers play with the tie of his apron. “So you’re not into this sort of thing?”

Bruce shakes his head vehemently. “No! I mean, I’m not exactly sure what this is, but I’m positive I’m not into it.”

Thor sighs in relief. “So we can just have sex?”

Bruce smiles and holds his arms out. “Yeah.”

Thor launches himself across the kitchen.


End file.
